


Go Now, You are Forgiven

by Laurap1680



Category: Smosh
Genre: Depression, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Miscarriage, Nightmares, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:40:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24593179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurap1680/pseuds/Laurap1680
Summary: A literary experiment to assess my skills writing in other genres than humor/smut.  I would like to put out a blanket trigger warning for all of my works: do not read my stories if you are triggered by anything, for there is a possibility the subject may arise.  I do not want to jeopardize the health and safety of readers, so please heed this warning in advance.
Relationships: Damien Haas/Shayne Topp
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Go Now, You are Forgiven

Is it all right if I expand my writing horizons? I think we should take this one down a notch, maybe work in some angst? With angst comes sadness, and I do not know how to mix humor with sadness yet. So, my humorous commentary will be noticeably missing, as well as me pointing out my flawed writing and story lines. Just understand that I take none of this seriously, and none of this is supposed to be a New York Times bestseller. There will be mistakes; there will be awkward scenes that do not fit the story. My only professional writing experience is a research article I prepared for my clinical chemistry rotation, but it ended up not being published anyway. I explain this to you now because I have a fear of people thinking I’m just another fanfic writer checking boxes on a list of tropes and plot devices. Also, I have a fear of this work being taken seriously, or that someone might think I believe it to be factual. This is not the case. I am just taking a few characters based on a few real people and putting them in very unreal situations for the entertainment of myself and others. That being said, I will still be using an overall second person point of view to tell a story in a third person omniscient point of view, or, rather, I am telling you a story. This form of writing is very unconventional outside of directions and persuasive articles, so it is unfamiliar and clumsy. I might switch points of view within the same sentence, and, while I would avoid that in academic writing, it might happen here by accident. Above all else, however, I ask you to please never share or post any of my writings on a platform with a direct link to Smosh, its members, or its affiliates in any capacity. Should this be discovered by someone involved with Smosh, I retain that the characters herein are really my own created with inspiration from real people, and any statements made about these characters are not meant to reflect the actual beliefs of myself, this fandom, Archive of Our Own, Smosh, or any individual. Thank you, readers, for being here and for your support. 

With sincerest love,  
Laura

Now that we have the legalities out of the way, I want to bring you to a world in which young men AND WOMEN, can be, and routinely are, drafted into the military to fight in a war declared by the Congress of the United States. We will go with an unnamed Middle Eastern country as the “enemy” in this war. Wars and conflicts usually have names, so we’ll name this war the “OPEC War.” Actually, that’s too real, so we’ll go with “Unspecified Middle East Country War.” As it is written by the U.S. DOD on May 15, 2020, the United States Army restricts Basic Training to those with the following qualifications: being a U.S. Citizen or permanent resident, seventeen to thirty-four years old, achievement of a minimum score on the ASVAB test, meeting medical, moral, and physical requirements, and being a high school graduate. During an actual declared war, suppose this government in this world waives the ASVAB requirement. With that in mind, and assuming they have no medical conditions of which we are not aware, both Shayne Topp and Damien Haas of Smosh qualify to be enlisted for Basic Training with the United States Army. Why am I telling you this? If you guessed one of our boys will be drafted in this story, you are correct! If you guessed that both of our boys will be drafted in this story, you are wrong and must leave. Just kidding, please stay. Going forward, I must disclaim any actual knowledge of the workings of war, how Congress declares war, the draft and enlistment, Basic Training, and basically anything I am about to write. Should you find something demonstrably inaccurate, tell me, nicely, and I will fix or remove said mistake. 

California, especially Southern California, has sunshine on the majority of days. On this particular day, however, Southern California is experiencing heavy rain. This is generally good, as this region is often in drought. It is quite fitting for the mood surrounding the employees of Smosh, for today is the day one of their members received a draft notice. It read “Selective Service System: Order to Report for Induction.” The letter was addressed from the President, and called for the recipient to present themselves at the local Selective Service headquarters. Referencing the Vietnam War draft lottery, men were recruited by birth day. I know this from watching This is Us. I looked up the order the dates were picked (they were picked at random), and lo and behold, the very first date picked was September 14. I shit you not. Does that date seem familiar? If you do not understand why I am a bit disturbed by this coincidence, please reference the SmoshWiki page for Mr. Shayne Robert Topp. There you will find he was born on September 14, 1991. I was honestly just going to pick whichever was lowest, but boy was I startled to see the first date. Because of this fatalistic discovery, I am, or rather this Congress is, sending Shayne Topp to serve in the Unspecified Middle East Country War. Please note, I am still kind of freaked out by this coincidence, so I am writing with an air of anxiety. 

The letter came to Shayne’s apartment the day prior, and he had opened it that night. He had to read it twice, perhaps three times before it really registered what the letter contained. Not having anyone with whom he could share this terrible news, he went to bed early, disregarding the letter as a bad dream. One might say Shayne was alarmed to receive his induction notice, but he was not surprised. He knew there were people all over being picked, so it was just a matter of time. Shayne Topp is not a religious man but he did pray that night, asking the universe to have mercy on him, and let him see the other side of this. It was a difficult and unpopular decision to implement the draft again, but the government chose war over peace and soon would run out of enlisted soldiers. To fill the growing gaps, they needed fresh recruits, and they needed them now. The government told him his life will be paused, but they did not give instructions on how to tell the people he loves. Least of all, his best friend, Damien Haas. He texted Ian that he would be late to work – he had something to do, and it could not wait. 

Damien Haas is a good man; a good friend. Watching his best friend walk into work two hours late with a haunted look struck Damien as “not right.” Shayne swallowed the lump in his throat upon approaching Damien, the latter of which had stood to greet his suffering friend. With tears welling in the corners of his eyes, Shayne encouraged Damien to sit down. He then fell to one knee and grasped Damien’s hand. Confusion and shock painted Damien’s face.   
“Shayne. What are you doing?” The clarification Damien sought was not readily offered, however.   
“Damien, I love you. I have loved you since I met you. You are my Best Friend, but I’m in love with you, too. You don’t have to answer today, but I do have to ask: Damien Haas, will you marry me?” It was, admittedly, out of the blue, but this was his last chance so he took the risk. Tears finally fell down Shayne’s cheeks as he offered an open ring box to Damien. Damien’s hesitation caused Shayne to think the worst: he had read this wrong; screwing up his friendship with Damien is a worse fate than deployment. He started to stand, accepting his defeat, but Damien put a firm hand on his shoulder, keeping him in place.  
“Yes. Shayne, yes, I will marry you. I think we’re meant to be together in some capacity for the rest of our lives, so I will marry you. But I have to ask, what brought this up all of a sudden?” Damien sensed the sadness in Shayne’s demeanor. Instead of answering, Shayne pulled the folded letter from his pocket and handed it somberly to Damien. Confusion melted away and fear filled him as Damien read the note. They say we cry because, when we are overcome with emotion, the neurotransmitter causing that emotion builds up in our brain and becomes too much. Crying is how we let out that excess neurotransmitter. The tears of different emotions actually have a different composition, and this can be seen under a microscope. Tears from cutting onions have a snowflake appearance while tears of laughter look like a Mondrian painting. Analyzing the tears of Damien Haas would reveal the pattern of a cracked brick building. This was fitting, because as Damien read, he crumbled. 

The previous remarks about Damien Haas continue to stand true, but I must add one more quality to that list. Damien is a good liar. He reigned in his sorrow in a heartbeat, he had to. Seeing Damien break before him would make leaving that much harder for Shayne. So, instead of wallowing in his grief, he held out his left hand for Shayne to slide the silver band onto his ring finger. Instead of transparently breaking down, Damien mustered up a half smile as if he were happy about his engagement. He gets it now, why Shayne proposed to him today, out of the clear blue sky. Damien understands that Shayne made a desperate attempt to create something permanent, something that would last until Shayne either returned home or met his demise. This was it. This is what Damien would have to represent Shayne should he be slaughtered in an unforgiving place. This, also, should have been enough. Thinking himself greedy, Damien pushed his emotions further down until his belly bubbled with the sickness of grief. Taking Shayne’s face in his hands, Damien placed a careful kiss to Shayne’s lips. This was it. By noon tomorrow, he’ll be gone. 

I understand how it would be easy to see deployment as a death sentence. There is unimaginable violence causing unprecedented deaths. It is so easy for Damien to think he will never see Shayne again, and for Shayne to think he is walking to the gallows, leaving his entire life behind. It is for this reason I can understand how easy it was for Damien and Shayne to make love for the first time as if it were the last. A fleeting thought passed through Damien’s mind, a wish upon a star, perhaps, that he was not a man and Shayne could leave him with something even more permanent. And even then, that would not replace Shayne, nothing ever could. Fairy tales come true only in one’s imagination, however, so Damien continues to weep into his new lover’s shoulder. He wishes instead for the world to stop and let him live in this moment forever, to let his heart not be amputated. He wishes the acid in his throat would subside, and that humanity’s cruelest actions would cease. 

The first step to become a soldier in this time is to pass a physical. Unfortunately, Shayne Topp passed his physical exam with flying colors. The second step is to board a Greyhound with a single change of clothes, pen and paper, and the loneliest feeling in your gut. Shayne strains his neck to look back at the station as he is carried away to a scary place. He sees the moment Damien loses that grip on his emotions, collapsing into Courtney Miller’s arms, stricken with grief. He also feels the moment he loses the battle with his stomach. People will stare at you, and wonder about you, when you run to the back of a bus to vomit. They might think, “is he drunk?” or perhaps “is he contagiously ill?” Only after Shayne returns to his seat do people go back to their business; back to their lives without fear and growing sadness. The third step to become a soldier in this time is to have your clothes confiscated and your hair lopped off. Then, you are expected to get eight hours of sleep on the most uncomfortable bed known to man. Furthermore, you find yourself awake in the middle of the night, scare shitless because this is your home for the next three weeks. This is the place you might get to know the person that watches you die, the person that dies later and cannot relay your final message to the most important person in your life. Shayne Topp has not cried so much in his life. His only consolation is the soft sobbing from a bed on his right. He cannot see them, but he hears how the person dies a little bit more inside with every breath taken in this purgatory. Shayne does not know his name, he doesn’t know anyone’s name, but he feels a connection to this man. They are not in the same boat. They are clinging to the same life raft in a hurricane. 

Pity is akin to a bad painting by a reputed artist. People stare because they can’t look away from the disaster, but when asked about it, they claim it is the most beautiful work of art. The onlookers only offer praise because they think the artist deserves it, not because they actually like it. Damien feels like a kindergartener’s crayon art displayed in the Louvre. People crowd around him, staring at the anomaly, and offering praise. All Damien really wants, however, is to be ripped from the wall and displayed on a crappy fridge. The problem does not lie in the offers for help, but rather that people are only offering because they think Damien is suffering. Which he is, he has been struggling to stay afloat for a week now. When asked how they could help, Damien tells his coworkers to become a representative in Congress and vote to stop the war. Sure, it’s a bit snappy, but the immense pain he feels more than justifies a little rudeness. So far, the only one to actually help him is Shayne’s mother. She doesn’t make empty offers; she only does what she can to get by. And getting by right now is calling Damien every day. In some ways, Damien thinks her situation is worse; she wasn’t able to see Shayne before he left. But, as much as Shayne’s mom loves her son, it will never compare to the love Damien has for his friend. Or fiancée, rather. For a piece of metal, the ring on Damien’s finger is about the only thing that makes him happy. He thinks about how quickly he agreed to marry Shayne, even before knowing he’d be gone. They kissed once at a party, sure, but beyond that, there were only suggestive looks and innuendos disguised as jokes to express their love. Marriage, in the general sense, is usually reserved for people in romantic relationships who want to spiritually and legally connect themselves to each other forever. Though the feelings might have been there, Shayne and Damien’s relationship, for all intents and purposes, was far from romantic. Of course, it is a common fallacy to argue that opposing statements are false because they oppose each other. They have stumbled upon the philosophical gray area. Despite this, Damien finds himself struggling to identify a reason not to marry Shayne. Even if he and Shayne had not slept together and would never sleep together, he believes he would still agree to enter the union of marriage with his best friend if asked. He still wonders, though, that if Shayne had not been summoned to die in a distant land, would he have consummated his relationship with Shayne? Did he freely participate in their rendezvous because he thought it was the last chance to do so? Damien hangs his head as he sits alone in Shayne’s apartment, looking for answers to questions that no longer matter.

They get a day. One day between Shayne’s return from Basic and his departure for the unspecified Middle East country. That day brings conflicting emotions: they get to see each other again, but they may be seeing each other for the last time. Damien is also conflicted by Shayne’s appearance. The short hair, his muscular body filling out the fatigues. It’s a good look on him, and in another timeline, he’d be all over that. But in this timeline, the short hair and well-fitting garb reminds him of the scant hours until Shayne leaves, whether for a long time or forever. He looks tired, too, but that is certainly to be expected after three weeks of strenuous training. Sure, Shayne went into it relatively prepared as opposed to the stick of a man he sat next to at dinner. What he was not prepared for, though, was training for combat. Not even the most fit person in the world could be prepared to hold a gun and be told to sacrifice civilians first. 

Damien and Shayne spend their last day together as any friends would: playing Super Smash Bros, eating pizza, and catching up after their time apart. Damien and Shayne spend their last night together as many friends would not: tangled in bedsheets, and each other, with sweat gathering on their foreheads from shared lust. Satisfying does not begin to describe their encounter. Where their first time was slow and intimate, this time was fast and playful. It meant no less than the first time, but it had a different feeling, almost like hope. 

Five months can be a short time or a long time, depending on one’s perspective. For example, five months is a short time to go away to school, but five months is a long time to live in a desert. If there was any doubt before he arrived, Shayne now knows there is a lot of sand around a desert. He also knows sand is good at getting into places it should not be: food, intricate GPS equipment, butt cracks, socks, etc. When he leaves this place, he never wants to step foot on a beach ever again. That might be difficult in LA, but he’ll try his best. The first month of Shayne’s deployment was spent in a village helping the locals rebuild after a raid. He saw a child hobble to a well in the village center to get mostly-clean water for his ill mother and baby sister. Shayne also witnessed two people die of preventable diseases, though there were many deaths in the village. He saw a ten-year-old boy carrying an assault rifle get obliterated by “made-in-the-USA” bullets. The first month in this foreign country showed Shayne a world he knew existed, but never thought much about. 

His second month on tour was problematic to say the least. Rebels infiltrated the village, five soldiers in his unit were blown up by a roadside bomb, and Shayne received an email from Damien. He was lounging with his bunkmates when he checked his email on the satellite computer. His mother wrote him daily, so he had to catch up on eight from her. Scrolling down, he saw two from Damien. The first was a reply to the email Shayne sent two weeks prior to tell Damien about his experiences. The second was a new email with the subject “Don’t Freak Out.” After a brief paragraph of news and updates, there was a long block of text. Once Shayne read the first few words, he started freaking out. I often wonder, “how cliché can I get before people call me on it?” I will test that limit right now. Shayne’s heart stopped when he read it. Damien was, indeed, pregnant. You might ask me how that is possible, and I would say it currently isn’t. I would then give you a dictionary opened to “fiction,” and you would see that I am not required to give an explanation. I will, however, give you some bullshit about a genetic abnormality that is, you guessed it, super rare. Now you might be wondering how it will be born, and I will say that you do not need to worry about that. Like foreshadowing, you know? So, here Shayne sits, staring blankly at one of the computers. It is not until a bunkmate asks about Shayne’s sanity that he finally understands what he is reading. His reaction, then, attracts the attention of everyone around him. That reaction includes such profanities as “fuck,” and “holy fuck.” His audience looks on confused until one of them reads the email over Shayne’s shoulder and announces its contents. Shayne sits still, contemplating Damien’s words as he receives a pat on the back from one person and a disgusted look from another. 

A successful pregnancy starts with a healthy mother, so Damien, at the recommendation of his doctor, begins a new diet and exercise plan, and tries to manage his stress better. He announces his condition to his coworkers one by one. Most are supportive and happy for Damien and Shayne. It is not until month four, three months after Shayne left, that Damien begins to freak the fuck out because he’s showing and that’s weird because he’s a man. He also freaks out because he learns Shayne’s deployment was extended to seven months. That would put the baby being born a month after Shayne gets home. Not only is there the possibility of the baby being early, Shayne’s tour could be extended again. By month six, Damien is in pain, frustrated, lonely, and hungry. He finds working out to be the most cathartic, so he goes to the gym all the time. During his time there, he thinks. He thinks about Shayne, he thinks about their relationship, and he thinks about their baby. He wonders what they’ll look like, if they’ll have hair right away. He wonders what he would do if Shayne never came home. All of the thinking and physical activity makes Damien tired, so he naps daily on the couch.

Shayne’s parents go to LA to visit Damien two weeks before Shayne is due to arrive home. They want to help with the preparations for the baby and stay to greet Shayne upon his return. Damien returns home from a good workout at the gym, showers, and lays down for his afternoon nap. As he is about to drift off, the doorbell rings. He gets up and looks out the window to find two Army officers waiting at the door. He stops, wondering why they are here, and watches Catherine open the door. One man hands a letter and a silver chain to her. Damien walks up to the door as the men are turning to leave. It’s not real. It can’t be real. The tears flooding Catherine’s eyes confirm Damien’s worst fear. No. It must be a mistake. Grabbing the letter from Catherine, Damien reads it to learn Shayne was a hero; he saved countless lives and served his country, Damien should be proud. Damien reads further and learns that a plane will fly into Fort Irwin at two in the afternoon tomorrow, and that plane will be carrying a flag-draped casket. Because of Shayne’s brave sacrifice, he will be given full military honors. 

Real buglers are in short supply these days, so a trumpet will have to do. It does not sound the same, though. Taps played on a bugle has a distinct melancholy to it, a quality lost on the trumpet. One of the many soldiers in uniform marches up to Shayne’s mother and holds out a neatly folded flag. He speaks, and Damien hears him, he just can’t fathom the meaning. When a soldier gives the folded flag to a family member, they say, “On behalf of the President of the United States, The United States Army, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one’s honorable and faithful service.” It is truly sad that a government thinks a piece of cloth is enough to replace someone you love. A flag? I mean, it’s a nice flag, but Damien doesn’t think it’s a very fair trade. He lost the love of his life, his best friend, and the father of his unborn child, and all he gets is a flag? The feeling of drowning has been said to feel almost peaceful, as if your brain understands its fate and wants your last moments to be happy. Damien gasps as he awakens, feeling like he was under water and is being pulled back to the surface. Tears stream down Damien’s cheeks as his consciousness flits in and out of his worst dream. 

They said he didn’t have to come back to work for a while, but Damien just could not stand to stare at his walls anymore. When a grieving person cries a lot, you know that it’s part of a healthy process. But, when a grieving person is too devoid of emotion to cry, you know something is really wrong. Another indicator that something is really wrong is severe abdominal pain in the last trimester of pregnancy accompanied by copious amounts of blood soaking your pants. 

The doctors say it was stress. Regular nightmares and the looming threat of them coming true places enormous strain on a person. Damien feels like his body betrayed him; like he betrayed Shayne. At least, if his soldier does meet his fate, Damien’s grief would be eased knowing Shayne had read their last email encounters and saw the last scan of their baby. Damien would no longer have a miniature Shayne, but perhaps that would be for the better, lest he be reminded constantly of whom he lost overseas. Damien cannot bear to send the tragic news to Shayne; he does not want to add more burden to the heaviness of combat. 

Damien woke up at 5 o’clock in the morning on the day of Shayne’s arrival. He drove to the airport with Shayne’s parents, and waited mostly patiently in the terminal for the airplane carrying his future husband to land. Damien fidgeted with the smooth silver ring on his hand and smiled despite, or perhaps in spite of, the tragedies he has faced. Shayne will deplane expecting to see a very pregnant man standing at the gate with his parents. Of course, Shayne found no such thing when he did finally arrive. At first, he did not notice: he was too preoccupied by the joy and relief of seeing his best friend for the first time in seven months. They hugged tightly with watery eyes and wide smiles. Eventually, Shayne’s parents got a chance to hug their son, as well. It was after the initial greetings that Shayne took note of Damien’s physique and cried at the explanation of such. 

There are moments in our lives when we get a glimpse of the misfortunes which others face. True, I, too, have had misfortunes in my life, but they were easier to overcome than most. The tragedy of losing an unborn baby is not one of those. It is my understanding that it is not only physically painful, but one of the most emotionally unbearable pains, as well. Many times, the parents choose to name the child to aid in the grieving process, and that is what Damien and Shayne decided to do. As evident in Damien’s ultrasounds, the baby was a boy. They name him Roland Robert Topp. Two years down the road, Damien and Shayne use this name again, adding the suffix “Junior,” for their second son, one that is born exuberantly healthy. Of course, one positive cannot erase the many negatives of life, but it’s a damn good start.


End file.
